Page 69 of Christmas Homecoming Secrets
“What?”
“Were you guys getting along or were you having some problems?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
Jade bit her lip. “I’m just wondering.”
“Did Frank say something to you?”
“Not a thing.” Which was completely true. “Look, forget it. Go back to your painting and I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“No, I want to know why you’d ask me that.”
Her phone vibrated. “I’ll have to call you back. I need to get this other line.”
“Jade—”
“Sorry, Heather, I need to answer this.”
“Fine, but call me back and explain your question.”
She hung up, her heart heavy. As much as she wanted to fix this for Heather, she couldn’t.
Her phone buzzed for the third time. Not a call after all. It was Bryce texting her from the other room.Breakfast will be ready in ten.
Then so will I.
Ready to eat, then face another day of searching for a killer. And pulling her foot out of her mouth. She’d have to think about what to say before talking to Heather again.
* * *
Bryce set the food on the table, feeling very…weird—and wishful. Over the years he’d thought about his future, of course, and had always pictured himself married—but to someone who was like him and didn’t want children. At least, he used to think about it before losing part of his leg, but in the past five years, he hadn’t allowed himself to dream or hope that he would find someone.
Until he’d seen Jade again. And then he’d learned about Mia and that’s all he could picture when he thought about the years ahead—having a life with them. He placed his hands on the counter, dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. He had no business thinking that. She didn’t deserve a disabled man.
Disabled? Maybe by the medical definition, but in his case, he could be honest with himself and say he was only as handicapped as he allowed himself to be.
His jaw tightened as Titus’s voice floated through his mind.
The familiar self-pity threatened to creep over him. “No, no, not going back there,” he muttered.
“Bryce? You okay?”
Jade’s voice snapped his head up. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”
“Anything you want to share?”
“Not right now, thanks. You hungry?” He pointed to the table. “We’ve got eggs, bacon, waffles and grits.”
“Starving.” She studied him for a moment, and he wondered if she’d insist on him sharing his thoughts. She didn’t. Instead, she gave him a slow nod, walked to the coffeepot and poured herself a mug of the steaming brew before settling herself at the table. “This looks amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
The tension in the back of his neck eased a bit. “Thanks. I like to eat, so cooking became a matter of survival.” He smiled. “I found all of the food in your mom’s refrigerator. I didn’t think she’d mind me using it to feed you.”
“Of course not. That’s what it’s there for.”
“Your watchdog is out front.”
She nodded. “I figured.”
